The Weasel and the Kneazel
by BlackHawk13
Summary: What Hermione sees when she comes home from work on her anniversary isn't QUITE what she thinks...after all, would Ron REALLY kill Crookshanks with a butcher's knife?


**Author's Notes:** Since I've found myself beset by a nasty case of writer's block, making it impossible for me to get any work done on the next chapter (Chapter 6) of **_MIRROR, MIRROR_**, I thought, perhaps, if I were to push off in a different direction...apply my creative capabilities to something else...maybe I'd be able to work THROUGH the block and then manage to get some work done on the other story. I don't know if it's worked yet...I suppose I'll have to sleep on it before I truly know if I've managed to wittle away at the blockage enough to apply myself back to the story that _should_ be my main focus.

This particular story was inspired by a commercial for Ameriquest Mortgage (type "Ameriquest - Romantic Dinner" on YouTube and you should see the video of which I speak). It's really quite funny, and as soon as I saw it I couldn't help thinking of Ron and Crookshanks.

I'm not sure of the execution of this story...whether it comes across the way I want it to or not. I guess as long as it comes across as funny, I'll be happy. If not...well...I guess the writer's block really is kicking my arse.

**Disclaimer:** The characters are JKR's.

_**The Weasel and the Kneazel**_

_**6:15 PM**_

When Hermione Weasley left work after a long day of trying to free house-elves and establish werewolves as first-class citizens, she was excited. Tonight was her fifth wedding anniversary, and she expected her husband to surprise her with something when she got home. However, the surprise she received as she walked through the door of their flat off of Diagon Alley wasn't anything close to what she expected.

As she walked through the front door of the flat and entered the hall, she could see into the small kitchen where her husband Ron was standing with a butcher's knife in one hand and a bloodied cat – her beloved Crookshanks in the other – and on the floor at Ron's feet laid a pool of Crookshanks' blood.

The image swam before her eyes, and her husband's voice seemed to have an odd ethereal, far-away quality as he wished her a happy anniversary. And then, suddenly, darkness overtook her, and Hermione fainted dead away.

_**Earlier that evening…**_

Ronald Weasley, it could be said, was many things…but romantic wasn't one of them. Oh, he'd been trying; ever since his twin brothers gave him a copy of _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ the summer after Sixth Year, he'd been trying his best to be romantic and thereby win the hand of Hermione Granger.

Whether because of or in spite of said book, Ron did win the hand of fair Hermione, and for the last six years they'd been even more inseparable than they'd been when they were two-thirds of the legendary Golden Trio, standing alongside Harry Potter in his quest to rid the world of the evil machinations of Lord Voldemort once and for all.

With the war against Voldemort six years in the past and with Ron's first year as a fully-authorized field Auror now officially behind him and with Hermione well-established in her job at the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and with tonight being their five year wedding anniversary, Ron felt it was time to take their relationship to the next level…it was time they started a family of their own.

Knowing that Hermione would not be getting home from work until well after Five O'clock in the evening, Ron Apparated outside their small flat with a sack full of groceries in hand, fully prepared to cook a romantic dinner for two. Once inside, Ron was immediately beset by Hermione's beloved cat, Crookshanks.

"Hello, you bloody monster," Ron said with a smile. He reached down and scratched the massive ginger cat behind the ears for a few moments, and the bandy-legged feline rubbed against his ankles briefly before turning and, with a haughty flick of its tail, scurrying off down the hall into the kitchen.

Following the cat into the small kitchen, Ron began unpacking the groceries and setting about preparing a romantic dinner for two. Unfortunately, Crookshanks was very interested in the items Ron pulled from the grocery sack and jumped up onto the counter to begin his investigation of the various food products.

"Come on, now, Crookshanks, you've got to get down," Ron scolded, picking the heavy orange fluffball up off the counter and tossing him towards the kitchen doorway where he landed on all four paws with a resounding _thud!_ "Remind me to have 'Mione put you on a diet…you weigh a bloody ton!" With the cat out of the way, Ron began making his mother's Spaghetti Bolognese, which was always a favorite of Hermione's.

Soon enough, the Bolognese sauce was on the simmer, the water for the pasta was on its way towards a boil, the table in the dining room was set for two with a bouquet of flowers in the center, and Ron was in the process of chopping vegetables for a fresh garden salad.

So wrapped up was Ron in the process of preparing the salad, that he didn't realize that Crookshanks had once again jumped up onto the counter, and with Ron not paying him any attention, the large orange cat quietly padded his way towards the hob where the Bolognese sauce was simmering.

The next series of events happened so quickly that Ron barely had time to think.

Crookshanks, in an attempt to investigate…and perhaps sample…the bubbling red sauce in the pot on the cook-top, placed one of his large paws on the handle of the pot and upended the whole thing, sending it crashing to the floor in an explosion of red all over the pristine white tile.

Turning away from the cutting board at the sound of his hard work splattering against the kitchen floor, Ron was just in time to see Crookshanks jump down off the stove into the puddle of Bolognese on the floor where the great orange troublemaker began eagerly lapping up the tomato and meat sauce.

"You barmy cat, look what you've done!" Ron shouted, butcher's knife still in hand, reaching down and snatching Crookshanks off the floor by the scruff of his neck, Bolognese sauce clinging to his fur, staining his orange belly red, "You've bloody well ruined everything!"

The sound of the front door closing drew Ron's attention and he looked up to see his wife, wide-eyed with fear standing in the hall looking at him. He knew the kitchen was a mess, but he hoped if he said the right thing, he could keep his wife from going ballistic.

"Err…happy anniversary, love."

The sight of his wife fainting dead away in the middle of the hall told Ron that, no, that was _not_ the right thing to say.

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Well, there you have it. Funny? Not funny? You be the judge. Go ahead and review if you like, and let me know whether I tickled your funny bone or just wasted your time.


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